


The Lotus Eaters

by Echo_of_Eden



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multichapter, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, explicit tags to be added but trust me it'll be gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5435558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo_of_Eden/pseuds/Echo_of_Eden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kenma realizes that he is in love with his best friend of many years and wishes he could have just ignored that realization forever.</p><p>Romancing someone in video games was a hell of a lot easier than in real life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which The Wheel Starts

Romancing someone in video games was a hell of a lot easier than in real life.

All one had to do was pick the right options, maybe give them gifts that had been picked up along the journey, put them in the travel party. Kenma thought all of that was simple, even if he did sometimes have trouble picking the rude options to ward off other romanceable characters. Where it got really tricky for him was after he crossed the line from fiction to reality.

Kenma didn’t know how to flirt, he didn’t know how to seduce, and he certainly didn’t know how to kiss. He had never kissed anyone, besides his own hand, and he could only stand to do that for a minute before the second-hand embarrassment at himself was too great. It’s not like he didn’t know that he was completely undesirable, but it had never bothered him before until lately. _Very_ lately. As in, two weeks ago, on Kuroo’s birthday. It hadn’t been some world shattering event, but it had been just enough to slow him down and get him to think. To fret.

He had done everything he normally did: woke up, showered, ate breakfast because his mother made him, and walked to school with Kuroo. Kenma had wished him a sleepy happy birthday, and Kuroo had laughed and thanked him. He still had been too lazy to wrap Kuroo’s gift, so he had nothing to give him when he saw him, and had felt a bit guilty at that. The day had passed in a terrifically boring succession, and Kenma remembered how frustrated he had been at getting classroom cleaning duty. He was scrubbing the blackboard when a knock came at the doorway, and some girl was standing there, staring at him.

“Are you Kozume Kenma?” she asked, and he couldn’t help but stare blankly. Not only did he not know her, but she was very pretty, the kind of pretty that anyone would take notice of. Her long chestnut hair was glossy and her figure curved like a snake. For a moment, he hadn’t answered, and she had raised her brows.

“Yes,” he finally replied, and a little smile curved her lips upward.

“Great! I’m Aikawa Itou, sorry for just barging in. I need to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

At that, he had gone from concerned to very concerned. He had never seen this girl before and she had come looking for him by name? She seemed to be a third year, too. He wet his lips and noticed they were chapped, trying to think of where he may have met her before.

“…Sure?”

“I’m not sure how to ask this with tact…but ah, are you and Kuroo Tetsurou a – thing?”

He gave her a blank stare, because what? What was ‘thing’ supposed to entail? He had shaken his head, clearly not understanding.

“You know. Dating,” she clarified, and Kenma’s mouth fell open.

He had tried to reply, but nothing came out but a great gust of air, and he could feel his cheeks getting hot. Dating? He and Kuroo had never done anything within the public eye that could even mildly support that. And even if they had sent mixed messages to their peers, how could anyone ever think that Kuroo would be interested? In  _Kenma?_

“No, we’re not. Why would you think that?” he had managed, voice scratchy. Her lips split into a real smile then, revealing two rows of perfect teeth.

“It’s just – you two are always together, and he talks about you so much in homeroom. That, and he hasn’t dated anyone in a while. I figured you two were just best friends, but then…” she trailed off, and Kenma leaned toward her, as if pulled by her words.The rag in his hand had grown cold, the soapy water chilling his fingers. 

“But what?” he asked.

“Nothing, nevermind. I’m sorry for asking you such a bold thing, but I really needed to know, just in case. I wanted to confess to Kuroo-kun today. It’s his birthday and all, and I don’t know, I thought that would be proper.”

As she said this, she looked away from Kenma shyly, long eyelashes casting shadows on her high cheekbones. The afternoon sunlight filtered in gently through the large windows of the classroom and only highlighted how pretty she was. Kuroo would love her. Suddenly, Kenma became very aware of the angry pimple on his chin and the way his roots seemed so stark against the bottle-blonde of his hair. He wasn’t sure why, because plenty of girls had confessed to Kuroo before, but a surge of annoyance all but cold-clocked him.

“Good luck,” was all he had to say to her, face disinterested as ever, and she bowed to him quickly before running off.

As the hollow sound of her footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Kenma could only stand there, shocked at what had just occurred. How many girls thought the same as her when it came to himself and Kuroo? Was she an anomaly, or was it common? Furthermore, _why?_ He kept asking himself that as he scrubbed the blackboard furiously. Of course they spent a lot of time together, they were best friends, that wasn’t strange. Besides that, Kuroo had only ever expressed interest in girls, and Kenma had never expressed interest in - well, anyone. The thought of anyone thinking that Kuroo Tetsurou – the tall, smart, handsome Kuroo Tetsurou – and Kenma were dating made him snort aloud. And then he had frowned, feeling a little off, a little uneasy. But he couldn’t put his finger on why.

He had gone to practice still annoyed, and became even more annoyed when Kuroo was late. When his best friend had finally arrived, he was grinning ear to ear, and Kenma had thought, _oh god_.

“Guess what captain got asked out by one of the hottest girls in the third year?” Kuroo had hollered, and their teammates had descended on him with questions. Who was she, what did she look like, was her rack nice? Kuroo had answered all of them with a smirk. The eyes of the first-years practically shone in awe, and Kenma rolled his own eyes at that.

“When are you two going out?” Lev asked curiously, and Kuroo shook his head.

“We’re not.”

“Uh…” That was all that came out of Lev's mouth, clearly not the answer he had been expecting.

“I turned her down,” he had said simply, and Kenma had raised his eyebrows at that.

All of the boys exclaimed in disappointment and confusion, but all Kuroo had to say was, “She’s hot, but I mean, I’ve never been able to really talk to her. No more pointless dating for me, guys, I already dragged myself through that as a first and second year. Don’t just date whoever. You hear me, my little kouhais? Listen to Kuroo-senpai.”

“You only just turned 18. Don’t try and sound so wise,” Kenma had said, and Kuroo slung an arm around his small shoulders with a laugh. Some part of Kenma was relieved that Kuroo had turned her down. The boy always spent too much time with his girlfriend when he had one, good boyfriend that he was. But the other parts of Kenma were still annoyed, still uneasy, and he had no idea why.

Well.

He was starting to get a vague idea of why, and it felt like something ominous creeping up on him from behind.

The whole incident hadn’t been brought up by Kuroo again since it had occurred those two long weeks ago, but it had crossed Kenma’s mind once or twice. Each time it did, he was filled with that same uneasy feeling, so he tried to force himself to stop dredging it up. Kenma had two basic settings: ignore the problem until it became a nonissue, or pick at it until it made him miserable. This was one problem that he’d much rather ignore.

And so he lay on his bed, still damp from a bath, tapping away on his PSP. Exams were coming up soon before winter break, but he was feeling too lazy to study, telling himself that it was good enough that he had already done his homework. His cell phone pinged, and Kenma flopped a hand around on the bed, not taking his eyes from the game. After a moment, his fingers closed in on the phone and he checked to see who had messaged him, knowing the pickings were slim for who actually _would_ message him. Surprisingly, he had an unopened message from Shouyo; the boy must have messaged him while he was in the bath. Two messages from two different people, woah. Wasn't he getting popular? The new one, predictably, was from Kuroo.

_> Kuroo Tetsurou: what you doing tonight? _

That translated to, ‘let me come over’, so Kenma typed back, _‘nothing. You can come over.’_

Oftentimes, Kenma had to spend a few hours mentally preparing himself before hanging out with anyone. It wasn’t personal, but being social exhausted him. The nice thing about Kuroo is that Kenma didn’t really have to psych him up just to hang out. The other boy just showed up and Kenma didn’t feel pressured to keep a conversation going, or to be picky with what he said for worry that the other would judge him. It was getting to be the same with Shouyo, but it was easiest with Kuroo. Of course it would be, after all these years. There were times they could hang out for hours and not say a word.

His phone lit up, and it read –

_> Kuroo Tetsurou: hell yeah! i'm bringing this new horror movie me and Bokuto watched, you’re going to pee yourself_

_‘How nice’_ , Kenma replied, and Kuroo sent back a winking emoji, which almost made Kenma smile. Well, apparently he was entertaining company tonight – kind of, anyway. Kuroo didn’t exactly count. Kenma didn’t pick his game back up immediately, choosing instead to just lie there with the silence. His mind was pleasantly blank, and then he started thinking about what movie Kuroo was bringing, if the boy would bring sweets like he had last time, and then an image of Aikawa Itou flashed through his mind. Her perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect tits. 

He frowned deeply at that and grabbed his game, trying to force the girl’s grinning, relieved expression from his mind, the expression that appeared when he had confirmed that he and Kuroo weren’t dating. They were best friends, not boyfriends, not lovers. How could it ever be anything else? They were comfortable as they were and he didn’t expect anything to ever change. The uneasy feeling was back, though, and he thought to himself, _so stupid._

So stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this fuckin party started
> 
> You can find me at laceandcaramel.tumblr.com (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)


	2. That Old Uneasy Feeling

By the time Kuroo actually showed up, Kenma had managed to put the entirety of Aikawa Itou and her perky boobs out of his mind. If nothing else, his games were the perfect thing to use as a distraction when he didn’t want to focus on reality.

He was in the middle of a boss when Kuroo slammed the door open, plastic bag swinging from his fingers, wearing the black hoodie that Kenma had gotten him for his birthday.

“Kenma, yo,” Kuroo greeted, but all Kenma did was grunt in response, fingers flying over the buttons of his PSP. The battle music poured out of the small speakers, and Kuroo flopped down on the side of the bed, tipping his head to look at the screen.

“You’re dying,” he commented, and Kenma scowled.

“Aware,” he replied shortly, which drew a snort from Kuroo. The growling monster sent Kenma’s PC flying with a pixelated splatter of blood, and he bit his bottom lip, trying desperately to get the upperhand. It didn’t help that Kuroo had decided to keep watching, and their faces were so close that Kenma could feel Kuroo’s breath on his face. Normally it didn’t bother him when Kuroo watched whatever game he was playing on the tiny console because it didn’t distract him; his focus on a video game was unwavering if he was really into it. But Kuroo’s breath smelled like iced coffee and his ridiculous hair was tickling Kenma’s chin. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to move away or move closer.

His fingers fumbled, and his PC was killed with a final blow.

“You just got your ass handed to you, wow,” Kuroo said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Kenma muttered.

“You gonna make me?” Kuroo asked, and at that, Kenma didn’t know what to say. So instead of saying anything, he swatted at Kuroo like he had a million times before. Kuroo easily caught Kenma’s wrist in his hand and laughed.

“Did you come all the way here just to make fun of me for losing a game?” Kenma asked, but there was no malice in the question.

“Yeah, all the way from down the street. It was a crazy journey,” Kuroo said. “You’ll have to forgive me.”

“I have to?”

“Oh yeah. I brought you something.” Kuroo lifted up the plastic bag, balancing it in the crook of his index finger and grinning that shit-eating grin that Kenma recognized well. It always came out when Kuroo knew he had won at whatever he was gunning for, whether it was a volleyball play or an argument. Didn’t matter. Kuroo loved winning.

Kenma tried to peek in the bag but Kuroo jerked it away, saying, “No way. You have to close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Kuro, c’mon,” Kenma sighed, but he did it regardless, eyebrows still furrowed. The bag rustled and Kuroo laid something into his hand, the texture slick and smooth. Plastic? Kenma went to open his eyes but Kuroo slapped a hand over them.

“Did I say you could open them? You trying to cheat?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma could tell how much fun he was having just messing with him. Kuroo’s hand was warm against his brow, cupping his eyes gently, obviously not trying to be too rough. Kenma’s eyelashes skimmed against his friend’s palm and he found that uneasy feeling bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m going to fall asleep before you let me see what it is,” Kenma groused.

“You better not, we still have to watch this movie.”

“So let me see.”

Kuroo removed his hand and Kenma looked down to the weight in his hand. A slice of apple pie, packaged up neat and still hot enough to steam up the plastic.

“I got a popsicle. I don’t think it melted, it’s sure as shit cold enough outside,” Kuroo said, pulling out the popsicle from the bag and a plastic fork. He handed it to Kenma, assuming (rightly so) that Kenma would want to eat it right away. Sometimes, Kuroo was stunningly thoughtful. Kenma realized then that he was smiling down at the apple pie, suddenly much happier than he had been 30 minutes ago.

“Thanks, I’ve been wanting this for a while,” he said, cracking open the container. The heady scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafted up to his nose and his mouth began watering automatically.

“Sure,” was all Kuroo had to say, but he looked pleased enough with himself. He ripped open the popsicle and held it in his mouth while he got up and grabbed the DVD he had brought. Kenma was content to sit there and be lazy while Kuroo put the movie on, which was nothing new. He dug out another chunk of apple pie and popped in his mouth while Kuroo bent down to fuss with the DVD player. Kenma slowed mid-chew.

Had Kuroo always had an _ass?_

Of course he had an ass, everyone had that. But Kuroo’s was like a damn shelf, perfectly round and muscular. How had he not noticed before? It wasn’t weird to think your best friend had a nice ass, was it? Totally not weird at all, or at least, that’s what Kenma told himself over and over even as his face grew hot from the sudden embarrassing realization. The apple pie had grown soggy in his mouth from the slow chewing, and he swallowed it down with a grimace.

“Sorry, I had to wipe the disc off first, Bokuto sneezed on it. Hey, you okay?”

Kuroo had stood and turned, but immediately frowned upon noticing Kenma’s slightly red face. There was nothing different in his expression, but it was hard not to notice the sudden burning of his pale skin. _Smooth._

“Yeah,” Kenma replied, and his voice came out steady and bored-sounding. Of course it did.

Kuroo squinted, as if not quite believing him, but he didn’t argue. Kenma let out an internal sigh of relief at not being pestered, but he couldn’t ignore what he had just thought. About Kuroo. About Kuroo’s ass. About Kuroo’s nice ass.

It’s not that Kenma had never admitted to knowing when someone was working with a nice asset. It was just that he had no reaction to it. Seeing a girl with nice breasts or a boy with toned abs didn’t make him want to bang them; rather, he just thought, _‘huh’_ , and moved on. The sight of people’s bodies didn’t make him flush. Except for now, apparently. But he chalked that up to the fact that he was noticing this about _Kuroo._ That was different, somehow.

Before Kenma could dwell on it much longer, Kuroo shut off the lights in his room and went running to jump on his bed. The entire mattress bounced with his weight, and Kenma just rocked along, unperturbed. Kuroo pointed the remote at the TV and got to the main menu, pressing play with a little hoot of laughter.

“It was really scary the first time around. You can hold my hand if you need to,” Kuroo said, and Kenma could hear the haughty joking in his tone.

“I think I can manage,” Kenma replied dryly, and Kuroo tsked, as if dissatisfied.

They sat there in a comfortable silence as the movie started, Kuroo still sucking at the popsicle and Kenma picking at the apple pie. The first scene was a pan-in of a forest, surreal close-ups of bugs and the eyes of deer. And then there was a woman, running naked through the brush.

“This isn’t a weird porn, I promise,” Kuroo whispered into Kenma’s ear, and the boy inadvertently shuddered when his friend’s breath hit his skin. His nerves felt so raw, sitting there in the dark with the creepy violin music coming from the movie. Kuroo was a warm, solid presence beside him. How many times had they lay on this bed together, reading magazines or playing games or watching movies? Just talking? Too many times for Kenma to count.

“If you say so,” he said, and Kuroo snorted in response.

The two hours of film passed quickly, because after about the first 10 minutes, Kenma had managed to use the movie as a perfect distraction. He was good at getting immersed into a fictional world, easy for him to get sucked in and involved. He only jumped a few times, which seemed to make Kuroo disappointed, because apparently he and Bokuto had hollered through the whole thing. Upon asking him if it had been scary, Kenma said, “I’ve played too many horror games.”

While Kuroo was off showering and getting ready for bed, Kenma checked on his app games, not wanting to sit with his thoughts. They were, apparently, dangerous territory. He really thought that he had left the whole uncomfortable situation with the girl behind him, but here he was. Still thinking about it. It really shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, that someone assumed he and Kuroo were dating. It was common for best friends to get that assumption. Yet Kenma wondered what she would have said, if she had finished her sentence.

_I figured you two were just best friends, but…_

But, what? But, what? He didn’t like the idea that people were thinking about him without knowing him, judging him and Kuroo’s relationship without knowing how it was, or what it was. Kenma didn’t like people paying attention to him in general. As a child, he often pretended that he could turn invisible whenever he wished – every time a stranger stared at him for too long, or put him on the spot in the classroom, or bullied him. Even now, at 17, there were times he still wished that he could disappear when things got to be too much.

“I knocked over all the bottles in the shower and it was like a bunch of meteors falling everywhere,” Kuroo said as he re-entered the room, and Kenma started, not having heard him enter. Kuroo raised his dark brows and said, “Whoops, sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump.”

He had a towel around his shoulders and his hoodie in the crook of his arm, sweatpants slung low on his broad hips. Kenma rolled off his bed and dug pajamas out of his dresser, saying lowly, “I’ll be back.”

And then he skittered out of the room, leaving a shirtless and damp Kuroo behind. He went about his nightly routine on autopilot, and somehow, that helped. Kenma liked routine. It was comforting considering how jumbled his mind was at the moment. When he came back to his room, mouth tasting of mint and bladder empty, Kuroo was laid out on the bed flipping through a book he had grabbed off of Kenma’s nightstand. The lights were still off but the bedside lamp was on, so at least Kenma could see where he was going.

“I ran into your mom in the hallway. She said that she washed and beat the futon today but it’s drying for the night. Can you try not to steal the blankets while you sleep?” He said all this without looking up from the book, and Kenma stopped at the foot of the bed, frowning. His aunt had stayed for a couple nights, and it was courtesy to wash the futon after a guest, so Kuroo would be sleeping in the bed with him. They had done that before, enough times for Kuroo to know Kenma always stole the blankets.

“I can’t promise,” Kenma said.

He crawled onto the bed, grabbing his phone from the windowsill and flopping onto his back. They didn’t talk for a few minutes, and Kenma realized that rain had started to fall outside. As December approached, things were getting much colder, so getting anywhere tomorrow would be miserable if it kept raining. He just hoped that his parents would have mercy on him and not make him run Saturday morning errands.

Kuroo let out a loud yawn, baring his teeth, and slapped the book back onto the nightstand.

“This old man needs his sleep,” Kuroo said, tucking himself under the comforter, and Kenma glanced over at his friend.

“Don’t call yourself an old man, it makes me feel weird.”

“What? You don’t wanna sleep with an old man?”

“One more word and you’re sleeping on the floor,” Kenma deadpanned, and Kuroo gave him a toothy grin before switching off the lamp. The room fell into darkness, save for the dim streetlights that just barely filtered through the blinds of the window and the glow from Kenma’s phone.

Kuroo only lasted a minute before he opened his mouth again and said, “You know, electronics before bed-”

“Don’t even.”

“Kenmaaa. You’re going to go blind and then I’m going to have to be your seeing guide dog for the rest of your life.”

“You’d let me get run over in the street,” Kenma said, and Kuroo let out a scandalized gasp.

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would.”

Kenma half-expected him to disagree again, which would send them into a back-and-forth that would last for minutes like it always did, but Kuroo said nothing else. Instead, he rolled over onto his stomach with a smile and shoved his head beneath the pillow, obviously ready for sleep. It was one of his favorite hobbies, after all, so that came as no surprise.

Kenma gazed at him, the back of his head and curve of his shoulders silhouetted in a faint glow. The rise and fall of Kuroo’s back was steady. An hour passed, Kenma tapping away on his phone, listening to the sound of Kuroo breathing and the muffled TV track downstairs. His mother always stayed up late, much like himself, so the faint television noise had become comforting over the years.

Finally, the TV clicked off, and the house became silent. He glanced at the clock and it was nearly 1 – the night had stretched on quickly, without notice. It normally did when Kuroo was over, the hours slipping away with ease. Kenma put his phone on the windowsill and rolled on his side, body practically melting into the mattress.

Kuroo mumbled something in his sleep and Kenma shut his eyes.

He fell into sleep quickly and quietly, the kind of transition where one didn’t even realize they were falling asleep. Kenma did not dream. It felt like a quick blink of unconsciousness before he was rousing again. When he came to, it was still dark in the room but significantly warmer. The sun had not risen yet, and he felt a moment of relief that it was not time to get up and move around. He was comfortable and still sleepy and so, so warm.

It didn’t take Kenma but a second to understand that the warmth was coming from a weight that had pressed against his body. There was breath on the back of his neck, an arm draped over his ribs, a leg in-between his. Ah. Kuroo was practically enveloping him with the ease of an old lover, sleeping soundly, head still shoved under the pillow.

Kenma felt his face heat up, and there it was. That uneasy feeling, eating away at his belly, crawling up his throat and practically choking him. He lifted his pinkie, so slowly that it trembled, and traced a line down the palm of Kuroo’s hand. The skin was warm and soft, there, but when Kenma pressed his fingers against Kuroo’s, he felt callouses. He didn't know what he was doing. His hand seemed to be moving on its own accord even though his brain was telling him to quit it, to just shut his eyes and go back to sleep. It wasn't that Kuroo had never rolled onto him in his sleep before; Kenma always either pushed him off or slept through it. It had never mattered. 

It was only now that he realized exactly how much bigger Kuroo's frame was compared to his, and Kenma felt like he was being swallowed up by the heat of Kuroo's body. Each time Kuroo breathed, Kenma could feel the press of his friend's chest against his spine, rocking him gently.

His whole hand shook, and he thought - no - he knew this wasn’t normal. The press of his best friend’s palm against his own shouldn’t make his heart beat so hard. Kenma’s mouth felt dry. But as alarmed as he was by this, he couldn't deny one thing, either. He felt safe. Secure.

What was wrong? _What was wrong?_

Kuroo’s arm twitched, and Kenma froze before snatching his hand away. Shit. He heard Kuroo take a deep breath and then he shifted his weight, chest pressing harder into Kenma’s back. Kenma’s heart thudded so hard that he was sure that’s what had disturbed Kuroo’s sleep.

“Kenma?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma’s realized how close Kuroo’s mouth was to his ear. His voice was thick with sleep, almost slurred, and it was evident that he wasn’t fully conscious. The pillow shifted as Kuroo slowly rose his head up. Kenma didn’t answer – he couldn’t. He managed a, ‘huh’, that sounded more like a harsh breath of air than an actual noise.

“…you’re shaking,” he continued after a long moment, and this he said so quietly that Kenma had to strain just to hear it. Kuroo took Kenma’s hand and held it loosely.

“Kuro,” Kenma said, voice almost nonexistent. But Kuroo didn’t respond. He was already gone, head fallen back down on the mattress, returning to sleep in just a second without a care. Kenma stayed awake until dawn, Kuroo’s sighs and mumbles drifting against the back of his neck, their hands still locked together.

Something very, very strange was in the works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a week into winter break and all I've done is listen to The Weeknd and eat sour gummy worms
> 
> You can find me at laceandcaramel.tumblr.com (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)


	3. Some Kind of Difference

When he awoke, the space beside him was empty.

Kenma had fallen asleep still clutching Kuroo’s hand, and it had been a fitful and light sleep, like his mind just couldn’t sink low enough into unconsciousness. He still felt exhausted, especially under the warmth of the comforter. Rain tapped against the window pane, and Kenma turned his head to watch it fall.

As children, he and Kuroo would lie on their stomachs and watch the raindrops course down the window, pretending that the raindrops were in a race. Kenma won, more often than not, and Kuroo would wrestle him around while Kenma whined, telling him to get off.

The truth was, Kenma had never minded Kuroo picking him up or rolling him around; he knew then and he knew now that Kuroo would never hurt him. It was always Kuroo that helped him when he fell or took a volleyball to the face (sometimes he laughed first, but it _was_ Kuroo).

He was used to Kuroo’s small touches, and he did not mind them. Last night had been more than a small punch to the shoulder or a gentle touch on the back, though he wondered if it could even be counted. Kuroo had been half asleep, after all, probably not even aware of what he was doing.

With a frown, Kenma sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and scanning the room. No Kuroo on the floor, reading magazines; no Kuroo sitting on the end of the bed, watching morning TV. Where was he? Kenma didn’t hear the shower running or his friend’s footsteps in the hall.

He slid out of bed, bare feet hitting the wooden floor with a little ‘pap’. The room was cold, evidence of a chilly day to come, and he shivered his way from the room, searching for Kuroo. His parent’s bedroom door was wide open, but he didn’t see them in there even though it was still fairly early.

As he descended the stairs, he could hear the quiet murmur of the TV, the volume at the telltale level that meant someone was trying to watch but not be too loud.

And there Kenma found Kuroo, sitting on the couch with his knees to his chest, munching on cereal and watching an early morning sitcom.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Kuroo commented as Kenma paused at the bottom of the stairs, hand still on the railing. His bedhead was horrible, more horrible than usual, evidence that he hadn't even tried to tame it yet.

“It’s early,” Kenma said, as if Kuroo didn’t know that. The memory from last night drifted past his mind, and his fingers clutched the railing tighter, as if it could anchor him into the present. Don’t think about it. Just don’t.

“Yeah, I got up to piss and then once I was up, I was just up.”

“Are my parents here?”

“Left for the market. I talked to your mom right before they headed out.”

He nodded and left Kuroo in the living room, wandering into the kitchen to fetch himself some ice water. He felt sluggish, like he hadn’t really slept a bit. Would Kuroo bring it up? Did he even remember doing it? Kenma bit his bottom lip, sharply, and inhaled. It was a nonissue. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, not really. It had felt different, that was true, but probably because Kenma was overthinking it. Sometimes, once a thought had dug itself into his brain, he had trouble just letting it go. And after the… _weirdness_ that he had been feeling these past couple weeks, “The Sleeping Incident” was making a much bigger impact than it should be.

“The Sleeping Incident” + general weird feelings = Kenma, very confused. Not an equation he preferred.

He stuck a piece of bread into the toaster, listening to Kuroo chuckle from the other room at whatever was happening on TV. The rain had picked up, and he watched it come down hard. Today was going to go one of two ways: his parents would have mercy and he could spend all day playing games, or he’d be stuck doing chores. Perhaps they’d be more lenient if Kuroo stayed over; they loved Kuroo, after all. Half of him wanted Kuroo to stay for the day as he often did, but the other half – this new, emerging half that he did not know or like – wanted his friend gone.

Because if Kuroo was gone, then there was less chance of something confusing happening.

He clutched his water glass a little tighter, the ice clinking gently against the sides. Kenma ached for things to be just as they always had been, but something indecipherable was shifting inside of him, between himself and Kuroo. It felt like if he looked at it too closely, something very important would crumble right before his very eyes.

The toast leapt out of its confinement and jerked Kenma back to attention, his sudden jump making the water slosh in his hand. A few dribbles fell down onto his feet, and he frowned.

_Get it together._

“Kenma, c’mere!” Kuroo called from the living room.

“Hold on,” he called back, barely loud enough for Kuroo to hear.

He hurriedly slapped some jam on the toast and took what was left of his ice water to the living room. Kuroo was busy typing on his phone, not looking up when Kenma quietly sat himself down next to him. He put his legs up, wiggling his toes on the edge of the couch cushion.

On the TV screen, a young girl was running down a track, having some kind of inner monologue concerning two boys. He wondered how her makeup didn’t sweat off, or was the sweat fake? Or maybe they reapplied the makeup in between takes. But either way, that makeup sure wasn’t budging.

“Do you like that actress?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma glanced over at him. He hadn’t even noticed that Kuroo had stopped texting.

“I don’t know who she is.”

“You were staring really hard at her. You think she’s pretty?”

“I was thinking that she would have sweat her makeup off by now, in real life.”

At that, Kuroo snorted, the sound overlapping with the pinging notification that came from his phone. He returned his attention to the screen, and whatever he read on there made him smirk. Kenma took a bite of his toast, the bread crunching beneath his teeth satisfyingly. The jam was sweet and sticky on his tongue, and Kuroo had 5 o’clock shadow.

Why was it that he noticed these things when he was trying to eat?

Kenma tried not to stare, but there it was, dark stubble along Kuroo’s jaw and cheeks. It was slight, but just enough that it made Kuroo seem older than he had been a moment ago. Kenma swallowed, the toast thick in his throat. The natural light that filtered in through the windows was dim from the overcast sky, but it made Kuroo look soft. The sharp angles of his jaw and tall cheekbones didn’t seem as drastic as when they were edged with the harsh fluorescent light of a gymnasium.

Kenma followed the gentle slope of Kuroo’s nose down to the chapped fullness of his lips, and wondered when this had happened.

He had watched Kuroo grow up, but it seemed that lately, now, he was actually _noticing_. Kuroo had always been a constant in his life, and sure, Kenma remembered phases. Once upon a time, Kuroo had experienced growth spurts that made him moan in pain, and his limbs had seemed too long for his body; the couple of years that Kuroo’s face had been riddled with red, angry acne that left a few pocks in his skin. The voice cracks, the awkward hard-ons, the mood swings and rages that had nearly torn him to shreds after what happened with his father. Kenma remembered it all.

But somehow, those years had meshed together in order to make this boy – man? – this person that Kenma knew so well.

“So guess what we’re doing today,” Kuroo said, looking at Kenma with a grin, and for a moment Kenma forgot how to respond like a normal human being.

“What?” he managed.

“Gonna go hang out with Bokuto and Akaashi.”

“Have you looked outside? The rain isn’t going to stop anytime soon.”

“It’s perfect for two reasons,” Kuroo replied, lifting up two fingers as if Kenma needed visual help, “One, the train will be practically empty because no one will be out. And two, we can stay inside of Akaashi’s house, which means Bokuto can’t embarrass us in public.”

“You act like it’s only Bokuto who’s embarrassing,” Kenma said dryly.

“That really cuts me deep, Kenma. I’m always cool.”

“…okay.”

“What’s that voice for, huh?” Kuroo asked with a pitiful sigh. “So cruel.”

Kenma took another bite of his toast, which had cooled by now, and munched it while giving Kuroo a deadpan face that was on par with botox. Kuroo’s mouth twitched, as if he were fighting a smile, and then he let out such a dramatic sigh that Kenma had to roll his eyes.

“Kenma, come on, come on, it’ll be fun,” he goaded, leaning down and knocking Kenma’s shoulder with his forehead. Kuroo’s black hair tickled his jaw, and he could smell familiar shampoo. Kenma’s throat felt inexplicably tight as Kuroo nudged him.

“It’s raining out. And cold,” Kenma stated. “Really cold.”

“We’ll bundle you up, you can wear my hoodie. And Akaashi’s house is warm, you remember,” Kuroo said, looking up at him. Too close. Kenma turned his head just enough so that their faces weren’t parallel.

It wasn't that the idea of hanging out with Bokuto and Akaashi was a bad one, but Kenma felt drained. He wanted to burrow himself under his covers for a few days and not come out. But it was hard to say no when Kuroo was leaning on him, really asking. Kenma always had a hard time saying no to Kuroo, even though he hid it well.

The weight of Kuroo’s head on his shoulder seemed to physically push him to open his mouth, and before he could stop it, he said, “Let me finish eating first.”

“No rush,” Kuroo replied, and his voice was level, but Kenma could tell that he was happy. He wondered, briefly, if Kuroo would have gone without him, or stayed.

-

By the time they had made their way to Akaashi’s house, Kenma was shivering hard enough that his teeth rattled. The train ride had been quiet and relatively empty, as Kuroo predicted, but was only a temporary shelter from the rain. Even under the large umbrella, Kenma was blasted by the early December air, and was dampened from the raindrops being blown sideways by the wind.

He could’ve been at home, dozing under mounds of blankets, but _no._

Kuroo slammed the door knocker and huddled close to Kenma, attempting to keep him warm.

“A little brisk out here, eh?”

“A little,” Kenma replied, sarcasm thick in his tone, and Kuroo gave him a sheepish smile.

The door swung open, and a blast of heat hit Kenma right in the face. Thank god. Akaashi held the door open for them, looking cozy in a big sweater and jogging pants.

“Kuroo-san, Kenma-san. Please,” he greeted, and they shot inside with quick bows.

They toed off their shoes while Akaashi stepped up into the foyer, waiting patiently. Kenma had been over before, but it always amazed him how…clean Akaashi’s house was. Modern. His father was an architect, his mother a surgeon. Somehow, he figured that Akaashi was going to succeed in life – if he did it in his own way, well, that was up to debate.

“Can I get you two something warm to drink?” Akaashi asked. “Bokuto-san is-”

“Is that _Kuroo Tetsurou?”_

They all looked up to the top of the stairway as Bokuto swung into sight and came thudding down the steps. His heavy footfalls made the chandelier that hung from the foyer’s ceiling clatter gently, and Kenma grimaced. Akaashi, however, seemed unbothered, as if he were used to it.

“Akaashi, you have an owl infestation,” Kuroo said, smirking. Bokuto jumped off the stairs, missing the last three steps, and threw an arm around Kuroo’s neck.

“I’m the best kind of infestation!” Bokuto exclaimed.

“Gross,” Kuroo said.

“You said it first!”

“Yeah, but wording is everything.”

“I’m going to go fix tea,” Akaashi interjected. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll take your coats, they look damp.”

The other boys all scuttled after Akaashi as if he were the butler of the house, feet making soft pattering noises against the dark, rich wooden floors. A space heater sat by the kitchen cabinets and rotated slowly, and Kenma noticed that despite the central heat, it was much colder in the kitchen and living area. It had to be, considering the huge glass doors that took up so much of the back of the house.

Kenma wandered over to the glass, looking out at the backyard. He was used to townhouses and apartments, not houses with their own sprawling spaces. The pool was covered for the winter, and the rain had slicked the cobblestone of the patio. There was a garden farther back in the yard that had died back for the winter; Kenma thought he remembered Akaashi mentioning his parent’s affinity for it.

“Kenma? Your coat?” Akaashi asked, and Kenma turned, realizing that he hadn’t been paying a bit of attention.

“Right,” he said, sliding it off and placing it in Akaashi’s outstretched hand. He laid it flat on the marble island, next to Kuroo’s.

“The weatherman said the rain isn’t supposed to stop till mid-week, and then it’s supposed to turn into snow. When it snows, we need to have snowball fights! Do you think – no, no,” Bokuto said, and when he trailed off, Kuroo raised his brows.

“You were about to ask if you thought we could make a volleyball out of snow,” Kuroo stated, and he must have nailed it, because Bokuto pouted.

“I know it wouldn’t actually work.”

“You know what, big guy, believing in something is half the battle.”

In response, Bokuto blew a loud raspberry, and Akaashi just sighed. Kenma wondered how much daily effort he had to invest in order to keep Bokuto from doing something completely stupid. Stupid was one thing, but _completely_ stupid was another. He admired the boy’s tenacity, because Kenma surely would have given up by now.

“You know who texted me the other day?” Kuroo asked, stepping out of the way from the stove so Akaashi could put the kettle on.

“Who?”

“Daichi. Wants to have an unofficial practice match with us. I told him that it’d be a hassle trying to convince all the guys to come out on their day off,” Kuroo said, and Kenma perked up. This was news to him.

“Huuuh? All the way out to Tokyo just for an unofficial match?” Bokuto asked, seeming skeptical.

“It doesn’t surprise me much. Karasuno and Nekoma tend to get along, perhaps it’s just an excuse to see each other before tournament time,” Akaashi pointed out as he lit up the stove. “After all, this is the last year for a lot of the players.”

“Aw, Akaashi, why you gotta point that out?” Bokuto whined.

“Because it’s true, Bokuto-san.”

Before Bokuto could retort, Kuroo cut in with an, “Anyway, I said I’d talk to the team about it. If you guys are free the day we have the match, you should come watch.”

“To see you guys get your asses kicked? Nothing could make me happier,” Bokuto said, and then yelped when Kuroo kicked at him. He grabbed Kuroo’s ankle, and laughed loudly as Kuroo was forced to hop on one foot to keep his balance.

“Shitty owl!”

“Stupid cat!”

“If you two are going to fight, please go out in the yard,” Akaashi said calmly.

“I can’t fight him, Akaashi, it would be unfair,” Bokuto said, pushing Kuroo’s leg away. He lifted an arm and flexed, his bicep and tricep bunching together in what Kenma had to admit was a rather impressive display of muscle. “Look at these guns, Akaashi! Amazing, huh?! I could do some serious damage.”

“When I was over at your house the other weekend, you screamed when you found a spider in the shower and I had to kill it. Who are you doing serious damage to, again?” Kuroo asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“It was a big spider.”

“Sure was.”

“How do you hang around Kenma so much and still manage to be so mean?” Bokuto asked (as if he could, in any world, think of Kuroo as mean). “I always knew Kenma was the better half.”

“You’re not wrong about the better half part,” Kuroo said amicably, and Kenma turned his gaze to his friend. He couldn’t read anything on Kuroo’s face that betrayed whether he was joking or not, which unnerved him. “But Kenma can be an absolute terror, so don’t blame it all on me.”

“Says the one who dragged me across town in the rain,” Kenma grumbled, and Kuroo gave him a lazy smile.

“Ah, but you came,” Kuroo replied.

“Heh, that’s what-”

“Bokuto-san, do not finish that sentence,” Akaashi said, interrupting whatever innuendo was about to come out of Bokuto’s mouth. “Make yourself useful and get out mugs for the tea, please.”

Bokuto, to his credit, simply followed Akaashi’s request. The more Kenma hung around those two, the more apparent it became that Bokuto always listened to Akaashi. If Akaashi told Bokuto to jump off a bridge, he had no doubt that Bokuto would dive off head first. When one looked from the outside in, it seemed like Bokuto was the one to lead Akaashi, but the truth was that he just had a bigger mouth.

Akaashi had some sort of quiet, commandeering power over Bokuto, and Kenma couldn’t figure out for the life of him how. Bokuto sure as hell didn’t listen to anyone else.

“Akaashi got all of his homework done so we could all hang out together, you know,” Bokuto said, almost proudly.

“And your homework?” Kuroo asked.

“Sunday is homework day. Most of the time. Sometimes.”

“When you actually do it, right?”

That earned Kuroo a quick swat aimed at the back of his head, which he flinched away from quickly. He ducked behind Kenma, as if Kenma could have done a thing at all.

“Remember, fighting is outside only,” Akaashi said without even looking up from the tea he was busy pouring.

“What kind of third eye does he have in the back of his head?” Kuroo whispered to Kenma, and Kenma shook his head in order to deftly hide the shiver that had just coursed his frame. Kuroo’s hands were on his shoulders, their weight solid and warm. He never noticed friendly touches like this up until now, and he decided very quickly that it was annoying as all hell.

“There’s leftover curry for lunch, right? And onigiri?” Bokuto asked, changing the subject and looking over Akaashi’s shoulder. 

“Yes. Or I can run down to the corner store and pick up something.”

“Nah, we can scavenge. Oi, Kuroo, come help me set up the movie. Did you and Kenma watch that one I lent you?”

Kenma tuned out as the two walked into the living area, chattering about the horror movie that he and Kuroo had watched together the night before. They tended to get into heated debates over details that Kenma didn’t care about, so there was no point in listening.

“Need help?” he asked Akaashi lightly, padding over to the counter. Akaashi was putting the tea mugs onto a tray to take to the kotatsu that was set up in the living room.

“No, it’s fine. I won’t fix food until later, it’s still too early.”

Kenma nodded, and Akaashi fixed him with a stare that was gentle, but firm enough to hold his gaze. He froze. Was this how he got Bokuto to listen so easily? Whenever Akaashi met his eyes, Kenma felt like he was really noticing him, not looking through him like so many people did. He had that way about him, giving full attention to whoever he was speaking to, really listening.

That, and he was pretty, which Kenma suspected also played into it.

“Are you all right?” Akaashi asked, and Kenma blinked quickly in surprise.

“Yes? I mean, yeah, fine.”

“You’re quieter than normal today. I just wondered.”

He nodded again, not sure what he could say, but he felt a swell of gratitude rise in his chest. The fact that Akaashi had noticed his odd mood was both sweet and terrifying. He was used to Kuroo being the only one who could read his moods behind his normally neutral face.

“I’m fine,” he assured, and wondered then who he was assuring. Akaashi gave him an appraising look before picking up the tray and turning away.

“Her boobs had nothing to do with the shot, I’m saying, why were they just out like that?” Bokuto hollered from the living room, and Kenma’s shoulders rose and fell with a small sigh. At the very least, he would be distracted for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was being a bitch to write but luckily I'm bitchier
> 
> You can find me at laceandcaramel.tumblr.com (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

**Author's Note:**

> Let's get this fuckin party started
> 
> You can find me at http://laceandcaramel.tumblr.com/ (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)


End file.
